CHAPTER 29. SCYLLA AND CHARYBDIS.

February 29, 1920.

All the unusually intense attention of the thin reddish-brown Abyssinian cat, which, it must be mentioned, because of its unattractiveness, as well as its genuinely sharp claws and no less sharp teeth, the homeless residents of that street in Prague called Scylla, was now fixed on a relatively small gray mass of living matter. In those moments, Scylla's eyes truly resembled two tirelessly glowing fireflies: her sense of smell had caught the trail of a mouse. Scylla had no owner; she was entirely subservient to herself and, consequently, to her own instincts. Yet, despite the absence of any living being who cared, one way or another, about the rather unenviable life of this blood descendant of the Egyptian goddess Bastet, everyone on this street knew Scylla. Within its confines, there wasn't a single house from which Scylla hadn't been chased away. For this very reason, the only safe refuge, and therefore the only calm place of residence, for the red-faced Scylla was the underground sewage system. This place was abundant with food and had no people. What else did a being whose main sign of life was simply primality need? So, inadvertently distinguishing a very clear personification of food, and therefore satiety, within the urban underground sewer infrastructure, the cautious Scylla unhurriedly approached the very creature whose face, like its life, was essentially gray. Sensing this, not without the help of her own natural instincts, the little mouse left those extremely foul places, which were her native abode, with indescribable speed. Scylla, with no less haste, like a sailor who rushes with frantic zeal from the doomed confines of a sinking ship, followed her. A few moments later, they, the pursuer and the pursued, the predator and the prey, were already amidst the narrow spaces of one of Prague's continuously shifting streets. It was there that they first met the dark grayish-blue Chartreux cat Charybdis. This name had been given to her by her owner, a history professor and a passionate admirer of Homer and Plutarch, when, as a small scrap of furiously trembling energy, she had quite effectively trashed the meticulously ordered study—Odysseus's ship—of the aforementioned servant of the cult of Clio. Charybdis's copper-yellow, honey-colored eyes unceasingly fixed on those who, having suddenly seen a random witness to an unrandom life scene, now perched on a windowsill of an old house, froze for a few moments. They were eagerly awaiting the outcome, the creation of which now depended entirely on Charybdis: what decision would she make—to join the aforementioned drama or to stay out of it? It must be admitted that Charybdis had no choice. One of the options was eliminated for her by instinct, and so the decision was made for her by her own nature, or rather, by the nature of things, which exists in our world in the most direct way: Charybdis was now completely controlled by instinct—the instinct of life, which, in turn, consisted of smaller instincts, just as Rome was made up of dioceses. Not in the least bit embarrassed, Scylla looked at Charybdis with a very defiant expression. Her being had already fully accustomed itself to the fact that it must constantly, daily, defend its right to exist, and so this case was not to be an exception: the street had raised this reddish-brown Abyssinian cat, and so it taught her what to desire and what to avoid. The dark grayish-blue Charybdis, feeling such a look from Scylla, was somewhat embarrassed, but due to the complete dominance of her primitive instinct, she also did not want to yield her newfound prey to her newfound adversary, as she thought. Copper eyes fixed on aluminum-colored eyes. In each other's eyes, they saw the very life about which each of them knew nothing: at the very moment when Scylla saw a clean life in Charybdis's eyes, Charybdis, in turn, saw an extremely rough existence surrounded by fleas and bedbugs in Scylla's eyes; the first learned concepts like "love," "warmth," "affection" in the eyes of the second, while the second learned what "hatred," "contempt," "disgust" meant in the eyes of the first; the first grasped in the eyes of the second that men, like such blessed simple women, could radiate sincere affection towards cats, and not just blows and insults, while the second learned from the eyes of the first that women could be sincere, and not just hardened producers of quality flattery... Their instincts, which never ceased to burn like Etna, looked at and into each other at that moment, striving to find certain similarities and differences in each other: the same instinct was so diverse in these moments—one of them frantically wanted to satisfy hunger, while the second of them, for the sake of entertainment, sincerely did not want to allow the first to do so. The first was made predatory by hunger, and the second was made predatory by the first's predatory nature... Another moment and the gray mouse completely dispelled the confusion that had interrupted the active actions in the current act of this play for a few moments—she took this responsibility upon herself: the chase began!

And without even noticing how they ended up on the territory of the majestic Rudolfinum, the current characters of this spectacle stopped for a short time to partly assess their current surroundings, and also to partly catch their breath, which had been knocked out by the long and energy-consuming pursuit. The Rudolfinum—a majestic creation of human hands, human mind, and human feelings! Looking at its extremely refined forms, the little mouse, Scylla, and Charybdis, due to the limitations of their consciousness, did not feel insignificant and helpless—the prejudices of this world were not inherent in them! For them, the Rudolfinum was the same as a cave, a rock, or a tree was for them—in the most brilliant things and objects, as well as buildings, they saw no more than a thing, an object, a collection of atoms, a unique matter. They did not endow objects and matter with a soul and spirit—what every person was afraid to touch with sacred, hallowed awe was the most direct springboard and testing ground for the actions and existence of these creations of God's will. Looking at the great, they did not realize its greatness—they were unable to comprehend the value of what was valuable only to man, which once again confirmed the fact that man gives value to what is not valuable to nature and animals: one example of this is gold or, if you will, money. And yet, examining with their gaze what was great for man, they did not feel any contempt for themselves at that moment, they did not consider themselves stupid or smart—they were themselves and that was their given: they understood this visible surrounding world and this situation in their own way—no one at this hour, to the last iota, could say that they were absolutely right or that they were mistaken. At this moment, they did not in any way think about who exactly created this architectural structure, when, and what efforts he put in—they were not interested in this: they had themselves and this world in which they had to live, exist, and crown their existence with the expression of their own instincts, thoughts, and feelings. What were the names of those who created this miracle? They didn't care! Why are the names of creators consigned to oblivion, unlike their brilliant works? Do they, the little mouse, Scylla, and Charybdis, really not care? But... still!... they used these creations, or rather, used them to realize their being—it influenced their actions and deeds: if this building were not here and now, would they be here now or not? Creators... creators... However, does it matter who created the ballpoint pen when you urgently need to write a letter? Does it interest you when you use this publicly available benefit, experiencing certain feelings or thoughts?